A/N: Look, longer chapter! Fun chapter! I hope, anyway. Thanks for all my reads, reviews and favorites.

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Sherlock studied himself in the mirror with a critical eye. Dark blue shirt, black trousers, smelling faintly of soap and steam and John's least offensive cologne, two nicotine patches concealed under his sleeve, hair tousled in the careless way that would probably play right into any fantasies Molly had about running her fingers through it. Satisfied with his appearance, he took a long, slow breath.

He was going on a date.

A date.

AdatewithMollyHooper date.

Where he had to act… ordinary. No. He'd never act ordinary. Even if he wanted to, Molly wouldn't like it. Him being decent, yes. But not ordinary. She hadn't fallen in love with an ordinary man, now had she. No. For some unfathomable, inexplicable reason, she loved him.

"May God have mercy on her soul," he murmured.

He'd have to eat something at dinner, or she'd feel very self-conscious and it would be awkward. Well, he'd not eaten anything yet today but a dark chocolate bar, so that wouldn't be a problem. He mentally rehearsed a few things, some questions to ask her, some answers about the things she'd probably ask him. Well. He was as ready for the date as he'd ever be.

He'd managed to do a partial trace on the call. A blocked number was merely an obstacle, after all, not a dead end. And Moriarty had told him he had to try and solve the case, so he didn't consider it a breach of their agreement. It had come from a residential area just outside London. He'd research it more tomorrow. For now, he was… oh, how had John put it when he'd borrowed some cologne? "Losing his dating virginity." Ha, ha.

His other virginities that were at stake… Sherlock did not even want to think about.

He went out into the living room to fetch his coat, scarf and shoes, and was met by the sight of John putting on a jacket and studying himself in the mirror with the same critical expression Sherlock had worn only a little earlier. Sherlock's eyes flicked over him, observing and deducing.

New shirt, crisply ironed…jacket has recently been cleaned… socks are a bit worn which means he forgot that part but the trousers are hemmed and the shoes are polished. Small bit of deodorant and hint of cologne: he wants to smell nice but isn't sure about any allergies or fragrance preferences she might have. He's made a bit more effort than usual. Showered about two hours ago, went to the cash machine about thirty minutes ago. Nervous, eager expression that he's trying to hide… he really thinks he'll like this one. Well. My skills aren't going soft with all of this looooove business, that's for certain.

John smiled at him. "Well. Here we are. The confirmed bachelor and the boffin detective, both going out on a date."

"So it seems," Sherlock answered, sitting down to put on his shoes. "Where are you taking yours?"

"Dinner and a play. Not as exciting as what you've got planned."

"I doubt my date will be exciting."

"Hey. Molly's a good girl, Sherlock. Give her a fair chance, eh?"

"That's what I keep hearing," Sherlock sighed, standing and putting on his coat and scarf. "Obviously I plan on giving her a 'fair chance,' as you put it, or I wouldn't be going on the first date of my life with her."

"Yeah, about that." John looked down and seemed suddenly uncomfortable. He looked back up. "Is there anything you'd like to know?"

"About what?"

"Just, you know. Anything. Talking to a woman. Buying her a drink. Sex."

Oh, not this…

"Because if you have questions, it's fine. Really. You're my friend, I'm a doctor-"

"Thank you, John, but I think I can manage," Sherlock said wryly.

"Sure? I know you-"

Sherlock snapped his eyes to John's. "You know I what?"

John looked even more uncomfortable, but determined. "I know you've never… done it."

"Really? How do you know?"

John gave him a look that clearly said I am not that bloody stupid or forgetful, and Sherlock sighed.

"Fine, thank you, Mycroft: he was right and you are right, no, I haven't ever done it, nor do I plan to do it tonight. But if I do find myself in the improbable position of needing advice about how to do it, I will certainly let you know."

John raised his hands. "Okay, just trying to help. No need to be pissy about it."

Sherlock sighed. "I'm nervous, John," he admitted. "There's a lot riding on this."

"I know there must be," John said, giving him the look again. "Just try to…"

"Not be myself?"

"No, try to be open about it. Love is an amazing thing, Sherlock, if you give it a chance."

Sherlock almost muttered something about the nonsense of sentimental distractions like love but stopped himself. "Thank you, John," he said instead.

"I want it to work out. Really. I think Molly could be good for you." John clapped him on the shoulder. "I hope you have a great time."

Sherlock nodded. "And I hope your evening is…"

"Sherlock," John warned.

"Not a complete waste of time," Sherlock finished with a slight smile.

"That's the Sherlock I know and want to punch," John laughed.

They left the flat together and stood outside waiting for their taxis. Amazingly there was no rain again that night, and it was actually pleasant out. A taxi pulled up and Sherlock waved John towards it. "This one's yours."

"How do you know? Why does it matter?" John asked, curious.

"Because I ordered mine to time my arrival at Molly's at precisely seven o'clock, and this one would have me there at six fifty-four."

John shook his head. "Date or no date, you're still amazing." He nodded. "I'll be off, then."

"Good night, John."

"Good night, Sherlock. Say hi to Molly for me."

"Certainly."

As Sherlock watched him go, he thought about how to get John's help the next day. But only for a few minutes. Then his own taxi arrived and he got in, feeling like he was taking another step towards yet another Final Problem. But what the solution was, at that moment, he couldn't say.